Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(42)

Lukas tightened his arms. “Shh. Yagodka,” he murmured, “let me make it better.”

She cried harder.





THIRTEEN


Thirty minutes later, Lukas silently mouthed thanks to Farah before closing the bedroom door and bringing the tray to the bed. He put it down on the nightstand and, leaving the fresh croissants and fruit, picked up the cup that had a string with a small label hanging off the end of it.

He settled on the edge of the bed and handed it to Dale who was sitting quietly where he’d left her amid the pillows. She hadn’t fussed when he’d settled against the headboard earlier with her in his lap, her face in his neck. She’d just held onto him as she cried tears that had sounded more angry than sad. Maybe he was self-centered, but the anger seemed to be directed at him. Not that he’d gotten that impression when he’d come around the corner and seen Farah wide-eyed and Dale mid-melt-down. Anger hadn’t filled the air between them so much as fear. Fear and a palpable sense of defeat.

He was ashamed to say the defeat had been attractive to him.

With a hoarse thank you that made him want to hold her again, she accepted the tea.

“Farah said you prefer this to coffee.”

She nodded, her head downcast. “Bet you wish you’d heard that from me, huh?”

Again, little darts of ire stung his skin. “Yes.”

“Control issues much? Told you I’d be high-maintenance.”

How was he not bothered by this impudent side of her? If anyone else spoke to him the way she did, he’d have put a stop to it after the first snarky word. With her? He was amused, and appreciated that she wouldn’t be a submissive little mouse awaiting her next command. Though, once they got to a certain point in their relationship, that might be nice, too. In bed, at least.

“If this is the worst I can expect from you, I think we’ll manage,” he said dryly.

She didn’t acknowledge that. “Do you always wear boxers to bed?”

He frowned and looked down at his robe. Couldn’t see the boxers now, but he knew they were there because when he’d woken to find Dale gone, the fucking things had been twisted around his balls. “No.”

Her expression went sour. “That’s what I thought.”

In other words, she appreciated the gesture he’d made for her sake. “Look at me, Magdalena.”

She tilted her head and gave him a perfect view of swollen eyes that were now so green they appeared otherworldly. Her nose was pink, and she looked beat, but she was still so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.

“Tell me what it is you’re fighting so hard. Tell me why you tossed and turned beside me all morning, muttering about hating white and wanting to be left alone.” At one point, he’d watched her face crumple in her sleep as she’d begged someone not to take her baby. Not her, too, she’d said. It better not have been him in that fucking dream.

“I dreamed I was playing in the fountain outside the kitchen. I was wearing a wedding dress.” Her delivery was as empty as her expression. “When you came out and saw me, you didn’t get mad. You joined me in the water, and we had sex against the statue’s ass. It was broad daylight, and I’m pretty sure I orgasmed in my sleep.”

It took a second before he could address that. She must have had that particular dream while he’d been at the hangar, because if he’d seen her orgasming in her sleep, there’s no way he wouldn’t have slipped his hand beneath the covers and helped her along.

“We’ll have to make that dream a reality one day,” he said, then waited to see her reaction.

Her head came up and her eyes settled on nothing across the way. Her expression? One of are-you-fucking-kidding-me? She leaned over and placed her tea on the tray, then flopped down and jammed a pillow on top of her head.

He grinned at the dramatic nonsense and stroked his hand over her hip and down her toned thigh. Her ass was delectable in the shorts Bianca had chosen. Their personal shopper was actually his cousin. She’d studied fashion design at college and was now trying to make a name for herself in the industry, but would accept no help from him or Samuel and their connections. Stubborn girl was too much her father’s daughter. Lukas’s uncle Semion, who’d been named after Lukas’s late dedushka, lived a few miles down the road. Their properties joined at the stables.

Lukas frowned when he realized Bianca and Dale were around the same age. He didn’t appreciate the thought because he still saw Bianca as a young girl just entering adulthood. With Dale, he was ready to thrust motherhood upon her.

“What bothered you most about the dream?” he asked to distract himself. “The wedding dress or the fact that I didn’t react badly when I saw that you’d ruined it…likely on purpose to see if I’d react badly,” he added under his breath.

“I don’t mean to bait you,” he thought she said. “It just keeps happening.”

He removed the pillow and drew her up.

“You’re trying to make me lose my temper?”

“I’m trying to make you see that you can’t feel what you think you feel for someone you don’t know. What if this weepy pain-in-the-ass sitting with you is who I am? You wouldn’t want me. Thank God this is just me reacting to…this.” She pointed at him. “I’m usually much better protected. I mean, much more together,” she corrected.